Ever After
by lizziedarcys
Summary: CURRENT HIATUS. Rory Hayden plays servant to her stepmother, Sarah Olsen, during the early 1600s in France. Sarah plans for her daughter Elizabeth to marry Tristan, Prince of France. But Tristan meets Rory, and the sparks fly...
1. Prologue: Mother, Mother

Ever After

Disclaimer: I don't own _Gilmore Girls_ or the movie _Ever After_

"Mother, Mother" (Prologue)

Paris, France, 1601 

A seven-year-old with long brunette hair and excited blue eyes looked in the mirror, thrilled about her father's eagerly, long-awaited homecoming today. Jane and Emilia had made an attempt to make her look more like the proper young lady-in-training that she was supposed to be, rather than the tomboy that she had evolved into under her father's wing. She began to jump up and down from the strange feeling in her stomach.

"Jane," she complained to the old woman who was neatly putting little white rosebuds in her hair, "I'm not feeling very well. My stomach's being strange, like I have some butterflies in there." Jane chuckled in reply.

"I believe that one would call that _nerves_, Mistress Lorelei," she said in reply, fastening the last rose on her head. Rory frowned, wondering why she would have a reason to be nervous.

"But, Jane – I'm getting a new family today. I'm going to have a mother. Can you imagine it? And sisters! I'll be able to teach them to climb trees, and skip stones, and run proper! Why would I be nervous? I'm excited, more like it," Rory said confidently. "As much as I think I will enjoy having sisters, I will absolutely love having a mother. I can't remember what my real mother was like. Do you think Daddy's new wife will be anything like her?" she inquired, as Emilia pulled opened the window to allow some fresh air into the room, and was met with a shower of rocks and dirt in the face.

"William Cassard," she shouted. "When I get my hands on you…" she trailed off, muttering under her breath what she would do once she got her hands on Rory's best friend. Rory giggled as she heard the phrases 'skin you alive,' and 'stick you in the cooking pot for dinner,' before running over to the window to talk to the pixie-ish, blonde seven-year-old whom she been friends with since the age of three.

"Hello, Will! Papa's coming home today! And can you imagine? He's bringing a mother and sisters for me, as well!" she cried out gaily. Will nose wrinkled as he took in her appearance.

"Does his arrival mean you have to dress like a girl? Are you going to act like one too?" Will replied, unsure what to say in front of this strange, new Rory.

"I have to look like a proper young lady for my stepmother," Rory reprimanded him, "so I'm not going to play chase with you today."

"Why, because it's dirty outside?" Will asked, scowling. Rory narrowed her eyes at him.

"Just you wait, William Cassard! Tomorrow I'm going to make you regret ever saying those words!" she shouted angrily, slamming the window shut. Emilia glanced over at the young girl.

"It's nice to see you have some restraint," she told her, holding out some polished black boots for Rory to wear. Rory grudgingly took the boots and put them on, waiting patiently for Emilia to buckle them up. Only the sound of clopping horseshoes made Rory cheer up over her inability to put William in his place.

"Papa's home!" she shouted, pushing herself off the bed and flying down the staircase and out the front door. She came to a breathless halt beside the servants and waited for her father to appear.

"Papa!" she shouted gleefully and leaping into his arms. "Do I look lady-like enough?" she demanded fervently, wriggling out of his arms and landing on the ground, waiting for him to inspect her outfit.

"Very," Christopher Hayden replied, laughing at his daughter's over-zealous behaviour. "Now, come and meet your new step-family," he added, putting his hand on the small of her back and guiding her over to where two small girls stood on either side of their mother. Suddenly, Rory felt intimidated by their perfectly arranged hair and fancy dresses. Not to mention the tall, regal figure standing in between the girls, her nose wrinkled and expression incredibly unimpressed by what most would call an 'imposing manor.' She turned and faced Rory with a smile.

"Hello, Lorelei," she greeted her, a slightly haughty tone in her soft, nearly inaudible voice. "I've heard very much about you, and I've looked forward to meeting you, as have my daughters."

"Hello," Rory responded in a voice almost as soft as her stepmother's, and cursed herself silently from being so afraid. "It's very nice to meet you, although most people call me Rory," she added with a little curtsy. Sarah Olsen couldn't help but feel impressed by her new stepdaughter's manners, and raised an eyebrow at Christopher. 

"I believe you said she was like a little tomboy, with no manners at all?" she asked, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "This is one of the most well mannered seven-year-olds I have ever had the pleasure and fortune to meet." Rory flushed with pleasure at Sarah's comment, but was unsure whether to take it as an insult or a compliment.

'_It can't hurt; being told I act like a lady. As fun as it is acting as a boy would, it is enjoyable acting as I should.'_

Christopher shrugged. "I can't explain it. Normally she's covered in mud and dirt and begging me to allow her to be taught how to fight with a sword," he grinned, bending down and kissing his daughter on the top of her head. "It's unusual for her to act in this manner."

"I do too act like a lady sometimes!" Rory protested, and when her father archly raised an eyebrow, she followed through with, "I read sometimes, don't I? Boys normally don't read, they usually hunt, or swordfight, or… or… take care of their family's property!" Sarah pressed her lips together, turning them white, and folded her arms, but said nothing for a few moments, before -

"Come meet your new sisters, _Lorelei_," she said. "This is Elizabeth-" she said, pointing a hand at the taller of the two girls, blonde hair, green eyes, and incredibly pretty. Elizabeth curtsied when her name was said, but paid no further attention to either her mother or Rory. "And that is Jacinta," Sarah added, her tone sounding as if her younger daughter was simply an inconvenience in her life. "She is seven years old, and a few months younger than you. I'm sure she'll be a very good playmate for you." Jacinta curtsied, similar to Elizabeth, but she smiled at Rory. She was very different to her sister, with copper red hair and chocolate brown eyes that had a wicked spark in them. Rory got the feeling she was going to like Jacinta very much. As Sarah began to delegate tasks and order her daughters about, Rory's feeling of hope was suddenly quashed and replaced by one of loneliness and fear as the girls were filed indoors out of the sun.

"Well, this is nice," Sarah breathed, a false smile on her face as dinner was served. Rory looked down at the chicken, eggs and salad, feeling ravenous.

"It's brilliant," Rory agreed, not catching on to the sarcasm in Sarah's voice. Christopher shook his head at his daughter's obliviousness and his wife's rudeness. "Can I say grace, _Papi_?"

"Of course," Christopher said readily, and they all bowed their heads and clasped their hands as Rory began to recite the Lord's Prayer in a loud, clear voice that filled the room easily.

"Amen," they all murmured, and began to eat quietly, the silence occasionally punctuated by the sound of a pouring drink or a fork scraping against the plate accidentally. Suddenly, Christopher bent over in pain, clutching at his chest.

"_Papi_!" Rory shrieked, pushing her chair back and running over to Christopher's seat at the other end of the table, clutching onto his arm. Christopher keeled over, and Sarah raced over to his other side, pushing him back against the chair. Jacinta and Elizabeth both looked frightened by the turn of the events, but Rory paid them no attention. Christopher glanced at Sarah, before turning his thought to Rory, and he gently stroked her hair. By this time, Jane and Emilia had called for help and a number of staff surrounded the top end of the table, arguing over what to do with the Baron Hayden. Rory cried as Christopher's eyes fluttered closed, but not before he'd whispered four words to Rory.

"I'll always love you."


	2. Chapter One: Meetings

Ever After

Disclaimer: I do not own _Gilmore Girls_, and the only part of _Ever After_ that I own is the book and the DVD (both of which I stole off my older sister).  
Thanks to my Beta, LoVe23 - she fantastic!

"Meetings"

Lorelei Hayden – Rory, for short – knew the downsides of being part of the lower class incredibly well for an eighteen-year-old girl. The misfortunes of being a servant – or rather, a slave – had been drilled into her mind for the past ten years or so. Rory had lost track of how many years had passed since her stepmother Sarah Olsen had entered her life, and she had been cursing the day since it had happened.  
_I use to enjoy watching them eat their dinner_, she thought, as she paced down the aisles of the library, the familiar, rich scent of the books hanging in the air, _I remember telling my father it was like a dance. Now I hate everything about them. I suppose Jacinta isn't so bad. But Elizabeth and Sarah so awful. I never disliked a person as strongly as I dislike them. _Rory realised how much trouble she would be in if Sarah ever discovered through her multiple spies that kept track of Rory's movements that she had been in the library while she was supposed to be helping Emilia and Jane set up their stall at the market place while the Olsens were attending Mass at the Notre Dame Cathedral where it just so happened the infamous royal family of France would be attending the Sunday morning ritual. For months now, Sarah had been attempting to have Elizabeth introduced to the Crown Prince of France, Tristan. So far, all attempts had gone unnoticed, but Sarah was patiently waiting for the day that he would finally take notice of her beautiful, eldest daughter. To be honest, Rory found the dealings of her stepmother and Elizabeth to be of no interest to her, not to mention anything that concerned her.  
_If the Prince suddenly finds himself in an arranged marriage to Elizabeth, while feeling sorry for him, there is nothing I can do about that situation. Besides, he is more than welcome to my stepfamily, for once they move into the castle, I am able to have my beautiful home all to myself again_. She continued to pace the aisles, waiting for the ringing bell to signify that Mass was over and she was to hurry to the marketplace and pretend that she had been helping Emilia and Jane all along.  
_Jane did say that Sarah would be gone for most of the day_, Rory reminded herself, brushing her fingertips against the old, worn spines of the books, her eyes devouring the titles and wondering what it would be like to be privileged enough to read them. For Rory, simply looking at books was not enough. She had to read them, to analyse them, and be able to memorise it, word for word. She sighed, and pulled out the only book she had read among the library's large collection – _Utopia_.  
"Paradise," she whispered, flipping the pages quickly and letting the book's scent rise through the air. Her father's last present before she died, and the first present he gave her as a married man. After repeatedly reading it every night in front of the fireplace before sleep came to her for the past twelve years, she could easily recite the book, word for word. She began to think of what would be paradise for her.  
_For my parents to still be alive_, Rory thought, _and to be able to have memories of them tucking me into bed, kissing me, hugging me, or telling me stories. For Sarah getting her wish and marrying Elizabeth off to the Prince, and then leaving for the castle. _And then she came to the most realistic one.  
_This library. And a wish that I would never have to leave it. _She let out a small sigh, and replaced the book on the shelf, surrounded by worn, leather-bound books with golden titles.  
_But unfortunately, I can't. _A bell began to ring outside, and Rory realised with a start that Mass was over. _It's time for me to go. _

* * *

The King of France had never heard anything more preposterous in his life.  
"Marry for love?" he barked out at his son, watching in satisfaction as his son flinched.  
"Why should I marry somebody who I do not love, and who obviously does not love me?" he insisted, turning around to the Queen. "You agree with me, don't you, Mother?" he asked. The Queen let out a theatric sigh.  
"People have said it before, sweetheart. You were born to privilege and with that comes… specific obligations. I'm not the first Queen who has said it to her son, and I highly doubt I shall be the last."  
"I'm sorry, but I refuse to marry her," Tristan told both of his parents. "I am going to meet somebody who doesn't want to marry me simply because I am the Prince of France, and who is not going to marry me for she is a Princess or a Lady of Court and I am a Prince, but because I can communicate with her and enjoy her company." He turned on his heel and stalked out of the room.  
"Well, he's a theatrical romantic with his head in the clouds," the King told his wife seriously. "I'm quite certain that he's related to you." The Queen scowled, and followed her son out of the room, leaving the King alone with his cartography.

* * *

The atmosphere in the marketplace was one extremely different to that of the library. It was fast-paced and uptight, and rather than the musty smell of books, the only thing Rory could smell at the moment was chicken poo and straw, occasionally mingled with sweat. Possibly hers.

_Well, it was hard work chasing those run away chickens_, her mind justified. She grabbed a chicken closest to her and began to walk over to the cages, when she realised there was a customer waiting. She quickly put the chicken in the cage and wiped her hands on her apron, before turning to the customer with a fake smile plastered on her face.  
_I'd rather be anywhere but here, _she thought, her teeth clenching and hands tightening on the wooden surface in front of her. Her eyes went wide with shock when she registered who was standing in front of her.  
"Y-y-your Highness," she stammered, rage filling her when she realised how weak her voice sounded and how it trembled slightly. It wasn't too noticeable, but Rory prided herself on being a person who wasn't dazzled by royalty or celebrities of any kind. This, apparently, proved her wrong.  
"Shouldn't you still be at Church?" she questioned, pleased to find that she had full control over her voice once more. The Prince gave her a lazy smirk.  
"My parents went to an earlier Mass this morning," he informed her. This information made Rory contented, although the feeling was quickly replaced by guilt at how happy she was at Elizabeth's misfortune.  
_Bad Rory! You should be horrified and angry. Once he meets Elizabeth, he'll want to get married as quickly as possible. And that will mean you get the house, once and for all. To yourself. Don't you want that? Or, do you think that despite all their mistreatment and cruelty, that you enjoy their company?  
_Rory suddenly realised that the Prince was attempting to engage her in conversation.  
"I beg your pardon?" she asked, feeling her cheeks flush in embarrassment.  
"I asked you what your name was," Tristan told her.  
"Oh, it's, uhm. Mary. I mean, Lorelei Hayden. Rory, for short."  
"Well, _Mary_," he said, his voice teasing, "when I was told that there was a pretty girl working in the marketplace, he never told me how beautiful she just so happened to be." Rory's cheeks went, if possible, even redder, and she quickly looked around for something to change the subject. Her gaze fell on the withered fruit and vegetables before her, and she pulled a face.  
"I would offer you some fruit and vegetables to buy, but I suppose that not only is there enough at the castle for yourself and your family, but it's actually food that is actually _edible_," she said, waving her hand at the food before her and wrinkling her nose in distaste. "It's hard to produce crops when there are only three people to do all of the workload," she added quickly. "Although… I suppose there is always the chickens," she finished with a cheeky grin.  
"While I would love to buy something from your little stall and perhaps assist you in hiring more 'human resources,' I am going to the Baroness Olsen's house for a family lunch." Rory felt a stab of disappointment.  
_It appears that Sarah's attempt in matchmaking wasn't foiled, after all. Oh well. The sooner the pair get married off, the sooner I shall be free from my cage…_

"Am I allowed to enquire into how you managed to met my kind employers? At Church, perhaps, or in the marketplace?" Rory asked, a mischievous glint in her eye.  
"The Baroness Olsen is your employer?" Tristan asked, curious.  
"Not only that, but she is my stepmother. Not something I am overly proud of, but I enjoy Jacinta's company nonetheless."  
"I thought we were talking about Sarah," he said, becoming more than a little confused. Rory laughed.  
"Jacinta is Sarah's daughter. She has another daughter, Elizabeth, who is a few years older than Jacinta."  
"Ah. So then I take that it is Elizabeth my parents are planning on marrying me off to?" Tristan asked her. He knew it was inappropriate for a Prince to be talking to somebody of her social standing, but he found her highly intriguing, and a person he was able to talk to. She also appeared to overlook the fact that he was the Prince of France.  
"I never heard anything about that," Rory frowned. "And I would expect that Sarah would be rather excited by it. A person of your social standing being married off to somebody of a lower class. Shouldn't you be marrying the Princess of Italy, or a person along those lines?"  
_Somebody with prestige, power, money, and_ etiquette_… everything that Elizabeth doesn't?_  
"I couldn't believe it, either," Tristan said. "But apparently, my parents are eager for me to marry Elizabeth, despite my protests."  
_So the Prince doesn't agree with this. Maybe Sarah's plans won't be going as smoothly as she hoped,_ Rory couldn't help but wonder. She glanced up at the sky, to see how long it would be before lunchtime. No matter how interesting she found the Prince, Sarah would kill her and bury her in an unmarked grave in the apple orchard if it was revealed that it had been _her_ fault he had been late to his first meeting with Elizabeth.  
"It shall be lunchtime soon, and I presume that it is when you intend to dine with the Baroness," she told him, cringing when she heard her voice come out clipped and formal. "I suppose you should go back to Castle Hartford and change for your meeting with your future wife."  
"I suppose I should," he reluctantly agreed. "I believe I will be seeing you very soon, _Mary_," he added, before leaving. Rory watched him go, slightly disappointed, but mostly relieved.  
_I cannot be falling for the Crown Prince of France. Firstly of all, it's inappropriate. Princes and servants do not get married, ever. It is unheard of. Secondly of all, even if it wasn't so unusual for royalty and servants to become engaged, it is highly doubtful that he would fall in love with you, anyway. Thirdly of all, a five-minute conversation with a person does not constitute a relationship, let alone a romantic one. And fourthly of all… imagine what Sarah would do to you if she found out! _Rory couldn't help but admit she was more than a little afraid of Sarah – she surprisingly held a lot of power, despite her daughter's having next to none, due to her royal bloodlines, and Sarah always followed through with what she said she would do – and if Sarah found out that Rory had fallen in love with the Prince (and vice versa), then Rory knew that Sarah would promise to eliminate Rory from the game. And despite all Rory's romantic notations, her life was something she was not willing to compromise.

* * *

Tristan wandered away from the stall, disappearing into the busy Sunday crowd. He seemed to be in a daze, and wasn't paying very much attention to where he was going. He knew that he had only spoken to Lorelei Hayden for five minutes or so. He also knew that she was a servant, and that relationships between royalty and servants were unheard of. But he also couldn't help but think she was the most intriguing, educated young lady he had ever met, and it amused him slightly to imagine the uproar that it would cause in Court when he announced to his parents that he had found who he would marry – but she just so happened to be at the bottom class of Paris' social ladder. And while he was mulling through all of this, he couldn't help but remember how near the end of the conversation she had suddenly distanced herself from him, and he couldn't help but hope that it meant that she was interested in him, as well.

* * *

"Elizabeth," Sarah called impatiently, marching along the upstairs corridor of the Olsen manor. "The royal family will be here any minute! What is taking you so long?" She opened Elizabeth's bedroom door and let it crash against the bedroom wall. Elizabeth turned away from the mirror, and waited for her mother's reaction.  
"Oh, Elizabeth, you look radiant!" her mother declared delightedly, her annoyance and anger instantly vanishing. Dressed in a scarlet dress made of velvet and half of her straight blonde hair pulled away from her face and held back with a black clip, Elizabeth already knew that she looked beautiful. Now all she had to do was wait for her audience. 


	3. Chapter Two: Attraction

**Ever After**

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing; otherwise I'd be RICH! However, I am richer than my older brother, who has been borrowing money off me… makes you wonder why, seeing as he earns more than me.

_**Author's Notes:**_

FINALLY an update… working on other stories, these holidays have been causing ideas to pop into my head. Oh well, a late Christmas present for those who love this story.

**Chapter Two: Attraction**

Anthony, Janice and Tristan climbed out of the carriage and looked at the small house the Baroness and her family lived in. The Queen wrinkled her nose slightly. "It's very…quaint," she said, trying not to sound disappointed as she described the run down block of land. The driver of the carriage knocked loudly on the heavy oak door, waiting for someone to open it before he returned to the carriage. The door opened, and the willowy, blue-eyed brunette Tristan had seen at the marketplace earlier that day appeared. She curtsied, a smile plastered on her face.

"Your Majesties. Your Highness," she said, looking directly into his eyes without flinching. The Queen smiled genuinely at her. "My stepmother is in the dining room, waiting for you. Jane will take you there," she added, indicating an old woman with her black hair pulled back into a tight bun. Janice and Anthony went in first, Tristan waiting for them to go in before he followed. As he passed her he whispered in her ear "It's nice to see you again… Mary."

"My name is Lorelei… Rory, Your Highness. Not Mary. Perhaps you confused me with some other peasant you met on your walk through the marketplace," she replied coolly while shutting the door, before heading off down the hallway and disappearing down a set of stairs, to what Tristan assumed to be the kitchen. Tristan watched her walk away shocked at her tone of voice. Realizing that the others were waiting, he shook off his thoughts and continued on to the dining room.

* * *

"Tristan, darling, there you are. We were wondering where you had gotten to." Janice smiled as she glared at her only child. 

"I was talking to the Baroness' daughter," Tristan explained, not missing the scowl on Elizabeth's face. "We met this morning at the marketplace," he added for her benefit, watching her scowl get heavier. He took his place at the table, noting that it was beside Elizabeth, and wondering whether Sarah was trying to set the two of them up. '_Maybe it's just a coincidence_.'

All throughout lunch, Elizabeth stared at Tristan, Tristan stared at Rory, and Rory stared at Elizabeth. Tristan was trying to figure out how to grab Rory's attention while sending her silent messages. He realized his mistake in calling her "Mary" and wanted apologize letting her know he didn't mean to insult her. He was however confused by his thoughts. Why should he care if she was upset with him? He was the Crowned Prince! It wasn't as if he knew her. He should be upset with her for acting so rudely, but still, he couldn't shake the feeling that he didn't want her to be upset with him. Meanwhile, Rory was trying to figure out the best way to hide from Elizabeth, ever since she walked back into the dining room after the prince, she'd been glaring at her. She was confused because she didn't know what she could have done now, to elicit her contempt. While all this was going on, Elizabeth noticed Tristan's attention was on Rory. This did not sit well with her and made her quite jealous. What upset her more was the fact that she _was_ jealous. Why should she be jealous of that little wench. She was definitely more beautiful than she was. _Look at her clothes and her hair! She was so plain! Why is he looking at her and not at me! _she thought. While all these things went through her head, she tried to figure out how to divert Tristan's attention to herself. "Lorelei, could I have some water please?" Tristan finally asked. Quickly broken from her reverie, Elizabeth went back to her meal, afraid someone would take notice and know what she was thinking. Rory, also shaken from her thoughts walked over with the water jug. As she poured the water, her elbow bumped Tristan's wrist, sending sparks flying up both their arms. Rory hurried back to her spot beside Jane trying to hide her the blush that began to appear on her cheeks and suppress her shock. Once she was back, Elizabeth began to watch Rory wondering what just happened… Rory began to watch Tristan, trying to figure out what those sparks were and Tristan began to watch Elizabeth also thinking about the sparks and wondering if Elizabeth noticed the exchange. The whole time, the adults in the room took no notice of what just occurred.

* * *

It seemed like forever that Rory was just standing there looking between Tristan and Elizabeth. Finally, when dinner was over, Rory felt a tiny stab of disappointment amidst all the relief once Anthony, Janice and Tristan had left. She leant against the heavy oak door, running a hand through her hair. '_Don't even think about it, Rory. He's a prince,'_ she thought to herself sternly, before returning to the dining room to clear the plates.

* * *

Tristan watched the house slowly disappear from sight, all his thoughts on Rory and all the confused feelings that had been elicited from that simple touch. He frowned, running a hand through his hair, sighing almost as if in defeat, as he half-listened to his parents drone on about how nice the meal was. '_Don't think about her. She's a peasant. Your parents would never allow it.'_


	4. Chapter Three:Desire, Defy, Escape

Ever After

Disclaimer: The only things I own is whatever you find in my shoe-boxed sized bedroom (in other words, nothing of any importance). Story-wise, I only own… the…uh, well I did _write_ the story… I just borrowed some plot work from _Ever After_ and the characters from _Gilmore Girls_. Plus invented others.

* * *

"Desire, Defy, Escape."

The first thing that sprung to Rory's mind was: _I do not; in any shape or form, agree with what's happening_. The second thing was _I must be out of my mind to allow William to do this to me_, and the third thing was – well, she didn't have any more time to think when William began to approach her with face paint.

"William Cassard, if you take one more step towards me with that _thing_, I shall get the knife hiding in my clothes and stab you with it." William stopped, several feet away from her, and looked at her with an exasperated expression on his face.

"Royal ladies wear face paint. If you expect to escape Paris as a servant, well, let me tell you: it's not going to happen. If you don't leave looking _exactly_ like a royal lady, well, somebody is going to get suspicious and then you'll find yourself in the stocks for four bloody days for dressing above your station!" Rory rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue, before finally agreeing to allow him to cover her face in a layer of thick, heavy make-up.

"Where are Sarah, Elizabeth and Jacinta?" Rory inquired once William had finished. He leaned out the window and looked down into the crowded streets, rolling his eyes at Rory's nervousness but at the same time understanding her fear.

"Jacinta is talking to a group of royal, up-tight ladies and Elizabeth is what looks like being coerced into looking at clothes, accessories etc," he informed her, relieving her of her worry. "If you leave now, you should be able to get away with not being seen by them, although you might cause some interesting rumours to be spread by those annoying town gossips," he added with a grin. Rory let out a small laugh at his comment, but it quickly faded when William continued to speak.

"Why are you running away, anyway?" Rory shook her head and pressed her lips together, something, she realised, that Sarah did often. Especially when she was displeased with Rory's work. _Perhaps I have learnt more from her than I actually realised, _she thought, quite startled by the idea. "I'm your best friend, Rory, and have been for quite a number of years. What – are we going on about sixteen years?" he questioned. Rory answered his question only with a sigh, and continued to concentrate on the crowded streets below, intent on ignoring his question.

"Rory," he said, his voice quiet. And that was all it took for Rory to break down. William wasn't sure what had got Rory so riled up that she wanted to leave Paris –for good – but he was certain that it was nothing good, and it had something to do with her stepmother who seemed to have made it her goal in life to make Rory's as miserable and worthless as possible.

"What did she do this time? Hot oil or the rack?" he said, trying to make a joke out of Rory's current situation. Rory tried to plaster a fake smile across her face, but found that it was too much effort for her muscles to do so, and the smile turned into a slight frown.

"I'm sorry," William apologised, misreading into her response to his attempt at humour.

"No, no," Rory quickly dismissed any conclusions that she was angry with him. "It's just it's been so long since somebody cared about me, I forgot what it was like. It's been thirteen years since somebody worried about me, or payed me any attention – attention that didn't mean demanding where breakfast was, anyway," she said with a small, sarcastic laugh. William shook his head.

"People still _care_ about you, Rory. It's just that you've been so busy trying to run your life and Sarah's life and Elizabeth and Jacinta's lives that you've forgotten about what it's like to be cared for." Rory let out a sigh.

"Do you really want to know what happened? It's not an exemplary Olsen-Hayden family scene, just a little pre-warning," Rory explained, a sad look in her eyes.

"I really want to know," William replied. "I'm your best friend, I have a right to know."

"Well…"

* * *

Jacinta and Elizabeth trailed behind their mother, tired of listening to her rant and rave like she had been doing for the last twenty minutes or so, as they walked along the busy, crowded streets of Paris. They pushed their way through a particularly dense area of people, before finally catching up to her.

"Honestly, the _nerve_ of her!" Sarah muttered under her breath. "Common or competition? Isn't it _obvious_ which one bothers me more? For she certainly isn't competition for Elizabeth. Elizabeth is simply _everything_ that that little street urchin _isn't_!" A small scowl crossed Jacinta's features as she listened to the way that her mother whinged about Rory. "She is just trying to bring this good family name to ruin, and bring extreme embarrassment to this family! Well I'm sorry to spoil the little wretch's plans-" here, she snorted to show her contempt for the idea of feeling sorry for Lorelei Hayden, of all people, "- but it simply isn't going to work. I will triumph over her if it's the last thing I do!"

_Wonderful_, Jacinta thought a little sarcastically. _Mother scorns the idea of the Prince being in love with Rory, and she's sworn that she is going to become the tiny little problem of him not being in love with Elizabeth!_ She tuned in just in time to hear the words --

"_You'll_ talk to her about family honour, won't you darling?" Jacinta sighed at her mother's rhetorical question. You could simply not say no to Sarah Olsen, and Sarah Olsen happened to know it. She just asked you a question simply to point out later that she had asked you and you had agreed to it, if any doubts were raised at a later point.

"Uh. Of course, Mother. I'd be happy to," Jacinta said, trying to conceal all traces of sarcasm in her voice. _A young lady is never sarcastic; she is polite at all times, _her mother's 'teacher voice' floated into her head.

"That's my darling little girl," Sarah replied, opening the door to their carriage. "Come along girls, it's home time." _Why do I feel like something suspiciously similar to a dog?_ Jacinta wondered as she climbed into the carriage after her mother.

* * *

"And because Sarah felt I stood in the way of her daughter becoming royalty, she decided to use the whip on me, so I would know that if, in future, the Prince just so happened to talk to me, I am not, under any circumstances, to… ruin her chances by letting anything slip," Rory finished, knowing that some parts of her story made absolutely no sense. William couldn't help but feel horrified at what he'd just heard.

"No wonder you want to leave Paris – if it means getting as far away as possible from the Baroness, it's all you can do."

"I won't be able to feel safe until I am out of Paris," Rory told him, clutching to the front of his shirt, but she stepped away when they heard a knock on the door. William crossed the room in two bounds and opened it, and nearly had a heart attack when he saw the Crown Prince of France standing in his door way.

"Uh, can I help you?" he asked, a little nervous of the controversial figure leaning against the doorframe.

"I'm looking for Lorelei Hayden," he replied a little shortly. "And I believe that she is friends with you," he continued, "so I would appreciate it if you could tell me where she is." Rory looked up in terror when she heard Tristan voice, and began to back slowly away towards the curtain where she had been getting changed only hours ago.

"Well, she is here, but I don't think that it is a very good idea for you to be talking to her," William half snapped.

"And, why would that be?" William cursed the Prince's lazy drawl, but felt compelled to answer the query.

"Because of your incomplete engagement agreements with the Baroness' daughter, Elizabeth Olsen."

"Well, despite my 'incomplete engagement agreements,' as you prefer to put it, I need to speak with Lorelei, so if you would just let me in for a minute or so, I can talk to her and then be gone," Tristan promised. Reluctantly, William let him in to the small one-roomed apartment where he lived. "Thankyou," Tristan said, surveying the room. "Where did you say she was?"

"Hiding from you behind the curtain," William commented dryly, spotting a pair of shoes at the bottom of the curtain that didn't quite reach the floor. Rory shot waves of hatred and irritation towards William, before stepping out from behind the curtain.

"All done," she smiled at William. She feigned surprise when she saw Tristan standing next to him. "What are you doing here?" Tristan raised an eyebrow at her.

"You know why," he said simply.

"No, actually, I don't," Rory replied. "But, by all means, enlighten me, if you will." For the first time, Tristan took in what she was wearing.

"You do realise you could get four days in the stocks for dressing above you station?" he asked her incredulously.

"I believe that's not what you came all the way from Castle Hartford to tell me, but, yes, I do realise that," Rory said coolly.

"Why are you dressed like that?" Tristan couldn't help but ask.

"I'm leaving Paris, to let you and my step-sister marry in peace," Rory replied quickly. "Now, if you don't mind…" she stopped mid-sentence when he grabbed her arm.

"Stay with me," he offered. "For whatever reason, stay with me. And I promise I will help you out of whatever situation you're in." Rory knew that he could help her, but she was reluctant to accept his help. "I promise," he repeated. Rory looked at him for a moment, before nodding.

"OK. I'll come with you," she whispered.

* * *

"Where is that girl?" Sarah muttered, walking quickly along the corridors of the manor, angry with her stepdaughter, and not for the first time this week, she wondered how she managed to get conned into playing mother for the little ingrate. She passed Elizabeth's room, and looked in for a moment, watching her daughter as she lazily read a book – one that that little shit Rory had been reading last night, Sarah realised. _Utopia_. The last book that Christopher had ever bought back for her. She shook her head and continued on her way to the kitchens, before halting again outside the lounge room, where Jacinta was dancing with an imaginary partner. _I have no idea how I managed to give birth to somebody as psychotic and strange as _that_ child_, Sarah thought, marvelling at how different her two daughters were. She disappeared down the stairs to the kitchens, but much to her dismay, she only found Jane and Emilia there.

"Jane. Emilia. Where is my stepdaughter?" she questioned, hands on hips, in the most superior voice she could muster. The two older women shrugged in reply, and went back to rolling out dough and making orange juice. "I know you know where she is, now tell me!" she shouted, becoming impatient.

"We haven't seen her since this morning, my lady," Emilia responded in a calm voice, concentrating on rolling the dough out flat. "Told us she be out picking wild flowers to place around the house, and she'd be back by lunchtime. However, this is not the case, as you can see."

"When you see her, you bring her _straight to me_," Sarah instructed. "I will not have my staff becoming lazy and not working for their pay."

"But, my lady-" Jane started, but her protest fell on deaf ears. She sighed, and poured out what orange juice she had made into a clean glass jug. She waited until she was absolutely certain that Sarah was out of earshot before talking to Emilia. " Emilia," she said a little tentatively. "You don't _really_ know where Rory is?" Emilia looked at her, a little mischievous spark in her eye.

"Of course I do!" Emilia replied with a grin. "You don't really think that she is out picking wildflowers, do you?"

"I didn't think that it was very much like Rory to be out picking wildflowers," Jane said quietly.

"She left, and she's going to return for us later. She promised that she'd come back and fetch us from this horror house."

"Well, I just hope she knows what she does, crossing Sarah Olsen," Jane replied with a sigh, getting back to work.


	5. Chapter Four: Plans

**Ever After**

Disclaimer: I don't own Gilmore Girls

**Reviews: **

Thanks to: MountaineerTookieClothespin, Callista Wolfwood, frackandbonechick, princetongirl, X3 EViL WHORE X3, CoCaCoLa29, stargirl112593, Addicted2LancelotAndTristan, I die without you for reviewing.

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Gilmore-Supernatural-Fan13: I always spell "Lorelai" wrong. There would be something wrong with the universe if I didn't. Plus my computer says it's spelt L-O-R-E-L-E-I, so you can blame my computer too. Just kidding.

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LoVe23: You're my Beta. You have to take some of the credit. 

Tristan looked at Rory unable to hide his surprise. William glanced over at Rory and vaguely registered that she was clenching and unclenching her fists. It wasn't a good sign, but it wasn't a _bad_ sign, either.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you it was rude to stare?" Rory finally managed to choke out, getting sick of Tristan gawking at her.

"Y-yes..." Tristan he stuttered. He shook his head, and quickly gathered his wits before continuing. "…but then again, she never told me I'd be staring at a peasant who was disguising herself as a noble. You _do_ realise you could get three days in the stocks for this?" He said, looking at her like she was crazy.

Rory rolled her eyes and stood up. She was sick of being stuck in this room…with the present company. "So people have told me. But I'm doing it for a good cause. Not that you'd know what that means. You only do things for yourself." She said narrowing her eyes at him.

"Well, aren't I a good enough cause?" Tristan joked. Rory narrowed her eyes at him. "_Fine_!" he said reluctantly. "Let me help you." He said sincerely.

"I do _not _need your help." Rory snapped. _Well, I do need help, but I'm certainly not taking any from him._

"Too bad. You're getting it!" William said, pushing them both out the door. "Have fun!"

"You want to do _what_? Am I able to ask why, or will I just be told to be quiet and mind my own business?" Tristan asked as they made their way through the markets. Rory paused for a moment, considering what answer to give him. She shrugged and waved her hand aimlessly around in the air.

"I suppose you can ask why…" she replied, her voice trailing off. "But…" She said, leaving a dramatic pause.

"You won't believe me if I told you!" Rory said with an almost Tristan-like smirk, before heading off in the direction of his castle.

_Could this palace have anymore security? _Rory wondered as she marched through the gates with Tristan. As she entered, every single person in the courtyard turned and stared at her._ Oh, crap! _Were Rory's first thoughts upon realising that everyone was staring at her.

"You couldn't have warned me about this, could you?" she muttered in his ear.

"Well, I could. But then that would've been too easy!" he replied, looking around at the whispering crowds.

"So _now_ what am I supposed to do? Pretend that you're… you're…" Rory knew she'd have to spit the words out some time soon.

"_Yes_?" Tristan asked, raising an eyebrow. He knew it was twisted, but he found a form of entertainment in this.

"_Courting me_?" She said, unable to hide her disgust at the thought.

"Oh… that…" he said nonchalantly. "Well, seeing as they've already formed their own conclusions, I suppose so… on the other hand, you'll make my mother _very_ happy." He said looking at her seriously.

"And _what_, exactly, am I supposed to tell my step-mother? Or your parents, once she tells them that I'm her servant?" She hissed. Tristan gazed at her for a while.

"I don't know." he said seriously. "We'll figure something out." He said with a shrug.

Rory glared at him, and began to clench her fists again. _This plan is not going to work one little bit. Hello, stocks. We're going to get very well acquainted, I believe._

Tristan smirked at her. "You're so _cute_ when you're angry!"

Rory's mouth was open in a slight O. She knew it was rude, but she just couldn't help it. She looked at Tristan, glanced at the floor again, and then looked back at Tristan, before shaking her head. "Is it just my imagination, or did your mother just pass out?"

Tristan glanced down at his mother. "It's not your imagination. She's passed out. Probably from the shock of me saying I was courting someone. I'm supposed to be having an arranged marriage soon, so…" He trailed off, glancing one more time at his mother.

"Oh!" was all Rory was able to manage. She felt Tristan tugging on her arm, and leading her away from the throne room.

"Come…" he said, trying to ignore the sparks once again. "…tell me a little about this plan of yours…"


	6. Chapter Five: Plan, Scheme, Conspire

Ever After

Disclaimer: I don't own _Gilmore Girls_, nor do I own _Ever After_ – the book, or the movie.

"Plan, Scheme, Conspire."

Ex

Rory slowly sunk into the bed that the Queen had ordered the servants to make up for her during the late afternoon. She sighed as she squirmed into a more comfortable position. As nice as it was to have people do things for her, she preferred to do them herself – seven years living in her stepmother's household had taught that if you want something done, you have to do it yourself. It was a phrase that Sarah was constantly telling her, after scolding and chiding her for the 'poor' job she had done dusting the ornaments in the front hall, the way the beds had been 'dismally' made and 'extremely uncomfortable,' and how she 'presented herself in a lazy manner which would affect her chances of getting a husband' and how she was 'continually late without a thought for the rest of the family, which was incredibly selfish,' with the clichéd expression quickly following the insults. '_Speaking of my stepmother,_' Rory thought, _'she'll question my absence when I return home tomorrow, and I will probably be punished with that whip she likes using on the rest of the servants.'_ Rory continued to let her mind wander, thinking of Jane and Emilia, as well as Jane's husband, who had been sold to the King three months ago and was now hundreds of kilometres away in France, where he was now a slave. '_And it's all Sarah's fault_,' a little voice in her head whispered. '_With her attempt to appear rich, act wealthy and pretend that she is worthy enough to show her face in public!'_ Her thoughts drifted again, this time pondering why William had decided to force herself and Tristan together. _'He's a hopeless romantic who believes that no matter what your station is, you can make changes in another person's life._' She paused, and glanced around the room. _'Then again, maybe he's right. If I succeed in what William's suggested I do, then I'll be able to change my life – not to mention Jane and Emilia's. And maybe, if I do succeed, I can push to get Matthew back from England…_' were her finally thoughts as she drifted off to sleep.

Ex

Rory woke up to the sound of faint knocking on the bedroom door. She pushed the blankets off the bed and hurried over, wrenching the door open to allow whoever was on the other side in.  
"Good morning, Madame," said a short, portly woman. "I'm here to help you get ready for the day."  
"Oh. I don't have anything with me, except what I was wearing yesterday. My visit was rather… unexpected, and my home is quite a few kilometres away," Rory replied, attempting to speaking how she imagined a person of the upper classes would talk. "And you may call me Lorelei, not Madame. If you want," she added hastily, turning towards the window.  
"As you wish, Mada- Lorelei. I shall get your bath ready, and then go fetch some clothes for you to wear for the day from the Queen."   
"Can't I wear the clothes I wore yesterday?" Rory asked, alarmed.  
"Oh, no, Mada – Lorelei. They're downstairs, being washed by the… washers. It'll be another day before they dry."  
"But… the Queen," Rory protested, beginning to feel frantic.  
"Don't worry, Miss. The Queen won't judge you for it. She's a very nice lady, honest. I know she appeared stiff and mean yesterday, but she's not as horrible as she seems."   
"Oh," Rory said. _'That doesn't make me feel any better. It's not the judging I'm worried about. It's the finding out that I'm lying! If she finds out, I'll probably be beheaded, or something equally gross. And I'll die, which means I'll lose a very important part of my life. And incredibly important part. The part that keeps me living! _ Rory began to pace nervously.  
"That reminds me, Miss Lorelei. The Prince wanted to see you before breakfast. You better hurry along, because he rather anxious to talk to you. I couldn't imagine why, because the two of you talked for so long yesterday afternoon," the woman continued. Rory realised that she was probing for information. _The infamous court gossips_, she thought wryly. Rory shook her head.  
"I can't imagine, either," she said dryly, beginning to find it easy to lie. "And, I was just wondering… what is your name?" she asked, quickly changing the subject.  
"My name? Oh…" the woman said, beginning to get a little flustered. "Sally, Miss."   
"Sally." Rory repeated, smiling. "That's a nice name." The woman finished pouring the water from the bucket into the tub, and headed towards the door. She turned around and curtsied before she opened the door.  
"I'll be back in a moment with your clothes," she promised, leaving the room.

Ex

Rory looked at the stranger in the mirror, who was staring back at her with equally wide crystal blue eyes. The mirror girl was, in several ways, like the young seven-year-old that had eagerly waited for the day for the Baroness to arrive. _And for a mother to be in my life_, a little voice in her head added a little sadly. Some chambermaids had pulled back her hair so it tumbled down in fine ringlets, and she was wearing an emerald green dress with sparkling green beads stitched around the neckline, which was formally owned by the Queen, but she had willingly given it up.

"Well now," said a cheerful voice. "That fits _much_ better than that dress that you wore to Court yesterday. You look much better."   
"And unfortunately," Rory replied, putting on a tone every bit as cheerful as his, "you look no better than yesterday." She turned around and faced Tristan with a smile.   
"I thought I told Sally to tell you that I wanted to have a word with you. Didn't she tell you?"

"Well. Yes, she did," Rory admitted. "But it took awhile for me to get changed. They fussed over my hair and my outfit more than Jane used to!" Tristan burst out laughing in reply.

"I take it you don't like people fussing over you," he grinned, once he'd overcome his bout of laughter.

"Well… _no_, not really. But, I mean, who does? Now," she said quickly changing the topic as a means of drawing the attention away from herself. "About this plan of ours… _mine_," she hastily corrected herself at Tristan's raised eyebrow. "How are we planning on doing this without getting me beheaded or shipped off to the Americas, or some other horrendous outcome?" Tristan looked thoughtful for a moment or two as he pondered the obstacle set before them.

"Well…" he said slowly. "We could always… pretend… to… get married?"

"No. No, no, no, no and _no_. That will only get me into even _more_ trouble when the Queen finds out. Lying to royalty gets you killed. If you lie and end up dying, you lose a very important part of your life." Tristan let out a snort of amusement at Rory's comment, which she ignored.

"Technically, you're not lying, since _I_ know what you're doing, and I'm actually helping you do whatever you want to do."

"Do you _know_ how hard it's going to be to convince your parents that the Baroness is actually not the person she appears to be in public? Instead of being some wealthy, kind-hearted, generous soul, she's like a female, new-age version of Attila the Hun," Rory commented idly.

"What is it with you and the analogies?" Tristan asked, beginning to get frustrated and exasperated.

"Are you going to help me or not?" Rory asked. She found she was developing a talent for ignoring his snide comments and remarks, not to mention facial expressions and the noises he made when he opposed one of his ideas.

"Fine! What do you want me to do?" he asked.  
"Well…" Rory said, leaning forward, a slight smile on her face.

Ex

"She's a very nice girl, Miss Lorelei is," Sally confidently told the other servants in the servants quarter. "She just appears to think that everybody looks down on 'er. She was even nervous 'bout what Her Royal Snootiness would have thinked about it! And with good re'son too." There was a small murmur of agreement when they thought about the Queen.

"The Queen isn't that bad, lovies," chided a voice. "She just got a lotta pressure on her, being the Queen an' all." Sally let out a snort.  
"Pressure fiddlesticks! If nobody's up to _'er_ expectations, well, they're in a lotta trouble then, aren't they?"

"I heard she fainted when the Prince told her she was courting somebody," giggled another voice, slightly softer than the first.  
"That sounds like 'er!" exclaimed Sally, shaking her head in disgust.  
"Well before our heads get put on the chopping block, how about we start getting some work done around here?" demanded Miranda, the 'head' of all the servants in the castle, amidst some groans and grumbles.

Ex

"Mother, I heard some very unsettling news about the Baroness during the week," Tristan began during breakfast.  
"Well, which one?" his mother commented dryly. "We have several in the region of France, you know." Rory covered her mouth to hide a slight smile, however, the King detected the slight crinkling of her eyes and couldn't help but be pleased by her reaction to the Queen's comment. _Finally. A girl with a sense of humour_, he thought while taking a sip of his beer.  
"Baroness Sarah…" Tristan's voice trailed off as he tried to remember her last name.   
"Olsen," Rory supplied, confident that no traces of her elaborate plan would be linked back to her. _Strike one: Converting back to your old name once my father died_, she couldn't help but think.   
"That lovely lady with the beautiful daughters whom we dined with last week?" the Queen frowned, not believing in her son's tales. She also disapproved of young Lorelei breaking in on a conversation. _Not ladylike at all. Rather rude, as a matter of fact. _

"The very same. I believe she had sold off one of her servants to pay off one of her debts," Tristan said, realising too late that his reasoning sounded weak.  
"Oh, sweetheart, that isn't against the law. Why, it's not a crime at all! Unsettling news, indeed! Honestly," the Queen said with a little laugh, shaking her head and returning to her breakfast.  
"What about… lying to royalty? I believe that that is against the law in England," Rory spoke softly, her comment almost inaudible.  
"I beg your pardon?" the King asked.  
"I said--"

"Yes, yes, I heard what you said," the King said, waving a hand around. "How do you know the Baroness, and what fabrications has she been spreading, about this family, to this family or anywhere else as a matter of fact?" Rory flinched at his angry tone, unsure whether to persist with the matter. She glanced at Tristan, who gave a curt nod, before continuing.  
"Well… I… I have some relations with the Baroness. Through marriage only, however," she added, somewhat hastily. "I suppose you could also classify me as one of her daughter Jacinta's friends, although it is a somewhat strange friendship."

_I'm not telling lies_, a voice in her head insisted.

_Yes, but unfortunately, you're not telling the truth, either,_ another voice replied.

_I'm telling white lies! _the first voice argued.  
_Ah, but the point is, you're still lying, _came the second voice again.

_No, I'm just leaving out bits of information. Bits of information…  
That could incriminate you? _supplied the second voice.

"And I have heard… from Jacinta, that the Baroness has been lying about both her actions and the actions of her eldest daughter, Elizabeth. I should also point out that Jacinta believes that they are getting help, from inside the castle. One of your pages, I believe." Rory paused, as if in thought. "Rather old for a page, short, curly hair?" Tristan couldn't help but feel amazed at the performance she had just pulled off. It was brilliant, although if all of it was true, Sarah and Elizabeth were going to be in a lot of trouble indeed.  
Enough trouble to have them incarcerated, shipped off to the Americas… or even killed.  
Well, lying to royalty _was_ a capital offence.


End file.
